
Title 




Class JLjlLJ 



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Book dJjfe, 



The Shakespeare Garden Club 



A FANTASY 



-by- 
Mabel M. Moran 
of the 
Larchmont Garden Club 
Larchmont, N. Y. 




Copyright 1919. By Mabel M. Moran. 



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CAST 

Ann Hathaway 

Mistress Page 

Mistress Ford 

Lady Macbeth 

Perdita 

Cordelia 

Desdemona 

Katherine 

Jessica 

Portia 

Rosalind 

Juliet 

Titania 

Ophelia 

Rosaline 

Cleopatra 



Ihe Shakespeare Garden Club 

A FANTASY 

By MABEL M. MORAN. 



SCENE: A room in Ann Hathaway's cottage at Strat- 

ford-on-Avon. Furnishing in keeping with the period. 

(As curtain rises Ann is in the act of placing chairs, 

benches etc., in a semi-circle around the room; in center of 

circle is a long chest to be used as desk for the presiding 

officer. 

Noise is heard at door. Ann runs and opens same. 

Enter Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, — with animated flut- 
ter). 

ANN: Mistress Page (kisses) and Mistress Ford (more 
kisses). No finer sight ere greeted eye than you two 
dear ladies — nor never did I need you more. 

PAGE: How now? 

FORD: And why is this? 

ANN : Forsooth, 'tis a meeting here to-day of the Shakes- 
peare Garden Club — and like to be grave and solemn, so 
none better than you Merry Wives .of Windsor to cheer 
me up. 

PAGE: A meeting — a-lack-a-day — may we stay? We are 
not members. 

ANN : Oh, you are my guests — and most welcome. 

FORD: Do we know the ladies? 

ANN: Nearly all, I trow, there's the President, Lady Mac- 
beth. 

PAGE: She was ever all dignity — and ambition. 

ANN: And the Secretary is Portia, the attorney-at-law. 

FORD: A-la-la, she'll make you toe the mark. 

ANN: Jessica, Shylock's daughter, is Treasurer. 

PAGE: No one dares owe dues to her, I'll warrant. 

ANN: But sit you down, and have a merry gossip to- 
gether. Methinks the ladies do arrive. 

(Knock on door. Perdita enters, greeting and handshaking) 

ANN : (Aside to wives as Perdita crosses stage and takes 
chair at end) You remember the Winters' Tale they 
told of her? (Wives nod energetically) 

ANN : And here comes Desdemona, wife of Othello. 
Enter Desdemona. (sits by Perdita) 

PAGE: (aside) How could she ever have married that 
horrid black man? 

Enter Cordelia. 

FORD: I have never met her, she's daughter to King 
Lear, a cranky father and hard to please, but she's a 
lovely religious woman. 

—3— 



Enter Katherine. 

PAGE : Why that's Petrucio's wife, the one they called 

the Shrew, she hath an untamed twinkle in her eye. 

Enter Jessica. 

(sits. at table) 

FORD : Shylock's daughter, she keeps him guessing I'll 

warrant. 

Enter Rosalind, 
(in man's attire) 
PAGE : That must be Rosalind, she always did love the 
doublet and hose, but — as you like it — so do it, say I. 
Enter Portia. 
(Mortar-board and gown) 
(Sits at center table.) 
FORD: Tis Portia, the lawyer, and most successful. She'll 
win a case tho' it be for the Queen or only for a pound 
of flesh. 

Enter Juliet. 
PAGE : That's Romeo's wife, Juliet Capulet that was ; for 
a run-away match I hear they're very happy. 
Enter Titania. 
FORD : There's a woman I cannot understand. She seems 
ever to dwell in a sort of Midsummer Night's Dream. 
Enter Ophelia. 
PAGE : That girl gives me the shivers, tho some say she 
makes a fine wife to that melancholy Dane named 
Hamlet. 

Enter Cleopatra. 
(Regally attired in Egyptian draperies) 
FORD: My. word! 'Tis well our husbands are not here, 
that woman is a vampire. 

(Enter in numbers minor characters and take 
seats, much chatting, laughing, etc., until) 
Enter Lady Macbeth. 
(All rise and bow, she takes seat at center of 
table and raps) 
The meeting comes to order. 
LADY MACBETH: (rising and speaking with much dig- 
nity) Ladies of the Shakespeare Garden Club: We 
have a long and arduous meeting before us. Do I im- 
pose too much upon the milk of human kindness when 
I beg that the minutes of the previous meeting be 
omitted? 
PORTIA: (Jumping to her feet) I do protest, Madam, 
there is no power in Stratford that can alter a decree 
established. 
KATHERINE: How now! Must we listen to the law 

again to-dav, Portia? Go to — let's get on! 
LADY MACBETH: Oh well, what were done, when 'tis 
done then 'twere well it were done quickly. Madam 
Secretary — the minutes. 
PORTIA: (reading) The 12th meeting of the Shakespeare 

—4— 



Garden Club was held on March 15th (interruption 
from a member) Oh the Ides of March! The Ides 
of March, (grows faint and is fanned by companions.) 

MISTRESS PAGE: Poor soul, that is Caesar's wife. 

PORTIA: (continues) The meeting was at the home of 
Juliet Montague and was addressed by Will Shakes- 
peare himself, who hath told us in strong words of the 
unsightly condition of the banks of the River Avon. 
Willow trees uprooted, old rushes strewn about; broken 
flagons, and stray odds and ends of all unsavory things, 
even unto defunct felines* lie on the edge of our lovely 
waterway, and it was urged by our most beloved 
leader that this Club take the matter in hand and clear 
away the filth and grow Plants, Flowers and Fruits 
along the river's banks. 'Twas moved by Desdemona, 
seconded by Rosalind, and carried that our Garden Club 
should attend unto this work. 

LADY MACBETH: (rising) Enough! Thus thou must 
do, if thou'd have it, let us hear what our members 
have in mind. 

PORTIA: Madam President, there is more to read. 

JESSICA: Sit you down, Portia, and let me read my 
report upon the ducats in our treasury. 

PORTIA: Jessica, thou art indeed thy father's child. 
Shylock ever thought upon the ducats. 

LADY MACBETH: Ladies, enough of this. Ambition for 
our Club is our dear wish. Let's on with business. Who 
hath considered this matter and can name some fair 
flowers to carpet Avon's banks? 

(looks about questioningly, a member rises) 
Ah Titania! 

TITANIA: Madam > President, my suggestions come from 
realms of fairy land as I dream, half-waking, on a bank 
where the wild thyme blows; where oxlips and the nod- 
ding violet grows. Quite over canopied with luscious 
woodbine, with sweet musk roses, and with eglantine. 
I dream of pease blossoms and mustard seed and 
canker roses (tho some call them wild) and honeysuckle 
and ivy — (which I trow is feminine because it requires 
support). I give yo-u dew-berries and apricots, and love- 
in-idleness, and there is cupid's flower and Dian's bud, 
which is but an herb, but brewed will keep men and 
women chaste. 

MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Best brew some for Cleo- 
patra. 

TITANIA: (continues) These, Madam President, are what 
I would grow on Avon's marshy banks, (sits down) 

LADY MACBETH: Titania hath named a worthy list, let 
all in favor signify in the usual way. 

(Members applaud and murmur "aye, aye") 

LADY MACBETH: (looking about) Juliet, do I see you 
wish to speak? 

—5— 



JULIET: Madam President, Romeo says the plaintain leaf 
is most excellent for healing bruises, why not grow that? 
And Friar Lawrence knows many precious juic-ed flowers 
that kill the poisons of baleful weeds. Such weeds as 
the mandrake that shrieks like living mortals when torn 
from the earth. And surely we must have a pomegranate 
tree, for Romeo and I both know that the nightingale 
loves to sing in the branches, and the nightingale sings 
far sweeter than the lark. 

JESSICA: Oh you romantic child, still thinking of your 
honeymoon. 

LADY MACBETH: Ladies, your approval? (Applause 
and "ayes") 

OPHELIA: (very timidly) Madam President? 

KATHERINE: (aside) Have we to listen to Ophelia? 
Everyone knows she hath bats in her belfry. 

ROSALIND: Hush, Kate, Hamlet hath changed her mind 
since they were wed, she's sane enough now. 

KATHERINE : Hamlet and Petrucio must be of the same 
kin, Petrucio made me change some, forsooth. 

OPHELIA: (in louder tones) Madam President. 

LADY MACBETH: Ah Ophelia, speak up my child. 

OPHELIA: Madam, I move we plant rosemary, that's for 
remembrance and a chosen ejnblem for weddings and 
funerals. And pansies, they're for thought, tho Madam 
Titania called them "love-in-idleness." Fennel, too, we 
should have, that's for flatterers, tho some say the glad- 
iators mixed it with their daily food, to make them fierce 
and rude. Columbine is pretty, but it means unfaith- 
fulness — and forsaken lovers — let's not plant that. Then 
we must have rue, for its other name is herb of grace — 
we all need that. And daisies, shall we plant those? 
They mean to "dissemble." But oh dear Madam, I pray 
you let us have violets— and violets and violets, for they 
mean faithfulness, (sits down) 

KATHERINE: Madam President, I move we cheer Ophe- 
lia, she hath told us useful things. (Members — "Aye, 
aye, aye! ") 

LADY MACBETH: (Raps for quiet) Peace ladies, time 
passes, we must hasten, are there more suggestions? 

PERDITA: Madam President — Now Jove give me courage, 
I do so tremble when I speak — we should plant lavender 
and mint, and savory, and marjoram, and pale prim- 
roses — fairest flowers of their season would show star- 
like on Avon's banks, while the flower-de-luce and crown 
imperial would rear their lily heads in majesty gainst 
the foliage of willows. We could also have carnations 
and gillyvors, tho I like them not. 
(sits down hastily) 

KATHERINE: Madam President. Perdita is so shy she 
will not tell why she likes not the carnation and the 
gillyvors, but I know 'tis because they both are streaked 

—6— 



with red and white and look like painted women. 

MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Let's call Cleopatra "gilly" for 
short. 

CORDELIA: Madam President. 

LADY MACBETH : Cordelia has the floor. 

CORDELIA: Ladies, I ask your indulgence while I tell you 
a short but sweet tale of the Crown Imperial. This 
flower, which we sometimes call the Canterbury Bells, 
was first made white and erect and grew to its full beauty 
in the Garden of Gethsemane where it was oft noted and 
admired by our Lord, but on the night of the Agony, as 
he passed through the Garden, all the other flowers 
bowed their heads in sorrowful adoration, save the 
Crown Imperial, which alone remained with its head 
unbowed, but not for long. Sorrow and shame soon 
took the place of pride, and tears and painful blushes 
followed, and so hath she ever remained with bent 
blossoms unto this very day. (Murmurs and nods from 
members) 

MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Did I not say Cordelia was a 
fine religious woman? 

ROSALINE: Madam President? 

LADY MACBETH: Rosaline, my dear, I rejoice to hear 
you speak. 

ROSALINE: Dear Madam, I recall a sweet song of my 
childhood, learned before I knew that sometimes Love's 
Labor's Lost. It paints a picture of springtime. (Sings) 
When daisies pied and violets blue 
And lady-smocks all silver white 
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue 
Do paint the meadows with delight. 
Surely this would apply to Avon's banks as well. 

LADY MACBETH: Quite likely, child, 'tis a pretty chant, 
we thank you. (looks slowly around circle) Ah, Cleo- 
patra, have you no suggestions? 

(Cleopatra rises languidly and poses) 

CLEOPATRA: Madam President, age cannot wither, nor 
custom stale the infinite variety of my memories of 
Egypt's bounteous blooms ; but alas ! They would 
shrivel and die in your cold clime. Would that you 
might see green figs grow, and ripe luscious olives. And 
Oh for a glimpse of the date trees on the Nile, or a whiff 
of the orange blossoms' perfume. Could you but 
imagine the beauty of the lemon tree heavy with golden 
fruit, or the loveliness of the lime. The dusky purple 
of Egypt's wine-like grapes lies ever in mine eye, and I 
dream of the wondrous green of the Aspic vine. Yet 
perchance that which I love most is the polished sheen 
of laurel leaves, for Anthony and I wore laurel chaplets 
on our brows throughout the year. (Sinks back into 
seat) 

MISTRESS PAGE: My word, she treats us English like 

—7— 



30 farthings. 

LADY MACBETH: My lady Cleopatra hath told us what 
we may not have. 

OPHELIA: (rising hastily) Dear lady, let me tell you 
what we must not have, 'tis aconite, bracken, bramble 
and brier, burs, burdock and cockle, duckweed and hem- 
lock, insane-root, nettles and opium. All these are evil 
things. Let's none of them. 

(Members murmur and shiver) 

PORTIA: The law would call this a process of elimination. 

ROSALIND: Madam President, I speak for the greenwood 
• tree, for trees are my delight. 'Twas but a while ago 
that I found a man haunting the forest and abusing our 
young plants with carving "Rosalind" on their bark. 
Hanging odes on Hawthornes, and elegies on brambles — 
forsooth deifying the name of Rosalind. I soon stopped 
that. 

KATHERINE: Brave girl, what did you do? 

ROSALIND: (laughing) I married him. 

LADY MACBETH: Mistress Ford, have you a thought to 
add to our growing list? 

MISTRESS FORD: (rising and bowing low) My lady, I 
thank you for your courtesy to one outside your club, 
and being a good housewife I would speak for grains. 
You should plant barley, corn and oats, rye and wheat. 
Then too, there's spices, ginger, nutmeg and mace — oh 
yes, and mustard, thyme and savory. 

MISTRESS PAGE: (rising quickly) Dear Madam, I, too, 
am a good housewife, pray let me speak for what we 
can never neglect, good vegetables. There's cabbage and 
carrots, beans and peas, lettuce and mushrooms, and 
onions, garlic and leeks. 

LADY MACBETH: Ladies! Mine ears are weighted with 
sounds of food. Pray let us not consider onions— garlic 
and leeks — or all the perfume of Arabia will not sweeten 
this little land. 

CORDELIA: Dear Madam, I fear to annoy, but would 
the name of berries fall heavy on thine ear? We should 
grow some of these along the bank; say blueberries and 
blackberries, currants, and dewberries, gooseberries, mul- 
berries and strawberries, and if we grow strawberries 
we must remember that our own King Henry the Fifth 
hath said: "The strawberry grows underneath the net- 
tle, and wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, neigh- 
bored by fruit of baser quality." Are we humans like 
that, I wonder? 

LADY MACBETH: (Turning to Portia) Madam Secre- 
tary, are you able to make notes — these thoughts come 
in thick and fast. 

PORTIA: Aye, Madam, and I crave your mercy, and beg 
that the quality of mercy is not strained, for Ann 
Hathaway has asked that we leave not out of our dis- 



cussion the trees that Master Shakespeare loves so well. 
If a suggestion from me comes not amiss, it would seem 
wise that our members now sitting in this half circle 
should try, as in our childhood games, to name the trees 
in order, alphabetical, each taking her turn according to 
the letter, what say you, Madam? 

LADY MACBETH: Most admirable. Shall we begin at 
this end with 'Mistress Page? 

MISTRESS PAGE: Do I understand that I am to name 
all trees I canst remember beginning with the letter 'A?' 

PORTIA: That is my thought, and when you have finished 
just tap your neighbor and she will start with 'B.' 

MISTRESS PAGE: (Thoughtfully) Almond, ash, aspen, 
arnole. that's all. (taps Mistress Ford) 

MISTRESS MORD: Balsam, bay, birch, box. 

(much excitement among members, all trying to think, 
etc.) (Much original business) 

NEXT: Cherry, chestnut, crabapple, cypress. 

NEXT: Elm and elder. 

NEXT: Fig, filbert and fir. 

NEXT: Hazlenut and holly. 

NEXT: Lemon, lime and linden. 

NEXT: Oak, olive, orange. 

NEXT: Mistletoe and mulberry. 

NEXT : Palm, peach, pear, pine, plum, pomegranate. 

NEXT: Quince. 

NEXT: Sycamore. 

NEXT: Walnut and willow. 

NEXT: Yew-tree. 

ANN HATHAWAY: Will Shakespeare would love that- 
game, and thank the players, 'tis a goodly list of trees 
to cast welcome shade on Avon's banks. 

LADY MACBETH: Ladies, we may rest content, our 
meeting hath accomplished much, is there further dis- 
cussion for our Garden Club? 

DESDEMONA: Madam, my husband's friend, Iago, (tho 
I like nor trust him not) hath a pretty wit and hath 
likened us to gardens in these words : "Our bodies are 
our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners, so that if 
we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop, and 
weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or 
distract it with many, either to have it sterile with 
idleness or manured with industry, why the power and 
corrigible authority of this lies in our wills." (sits down) 

LADY MACBETH: True, child, very true. Ladies, let me 
prophesy, that when our members have died, and worms 
have eaten them and Master Shakespeare himself hath 
become but ancient history — garden clubs in times to 
come will remember fair Avon's shores made lovely by 
your sweet suggestions. 

CLEOPATRA: (languidly) Madam, I move we adjourn. 

Curtain. 
—9— 



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